Many the Miles
by JohnnyIsMyGoldSunset
Summary: While battling depression after Johnny's death, Dally loses his grip on reality. Leslie is a misunderstood girl with a big heart and a desire to show her true self to an intolerant world. Determined to pull Dallas out of his stupor and see the cocky greaser he used be, she sets off on a life-altering quest to find confidence and a strength she never knew she had.
1. Chapter 1

Hey! This is my new story, in place of "Love Ain't So Easy" because that story was crappy. My OC is Leslie and whether you remember her or not, she's new and improved. I'm so excited for this, so please give me some constructive criticism. Happy reading! :D

Disclaimer: I don't own The Outsiders, but I do own Leslie.

**Many the Miles**

Hail struck down on the still home as thunder caused the bedroom windows to violently vibrate. Elvis's voice effortlessly streamed out of the radio, but not too loudly, for fear that the rest of the household might hear. A couple of skirts were scattered around on the floor, while the rest of the room was tidy and smelled faintly of vanilla.

She gently placed her hand on the windowpane, feeling the uneven vibrations beneath her palm. She carefully searched for any handprints, for her mother would have a fit because she just cleaned. It was best to put away the skirts too, in case her mother would just barge in.

Leslie sighed at the capacious, gray cloud that oversaw Tulsa. If it had been sunny, maybe, just maybe she could have gone outside. It was a shame to waste a beloved Saturday, but it was at least better than being stuck inside school.

She pushed the curtain aside again and stared down at the neighborhood. If only she had a skyline view of the city, than she could possibly get in on the action. Maybe there would be somebody to help, if only she could get out of this pitiful house. Or maybe something extraordinary would happen. If only.

She was grateful to not live in a country of arranged marriages or royal families or pushy suitors. But maybe it would be easier that way, to be forced into something, rather than hope for that incredible moment that wasn't going to happen. But she didn't even know the first thing about romance because she'd never experienced it.

It was getting exceptionally difficult to even look at girls she knew. They stared off dreamily in the hallways, telling her of how their boyfriends bought them roses, or how sweet they acted on their last date. Leslie was always suspicious of this; she'd heard of some of these "sweet" boys jumping greasers for kicks. Everyone was hypocritical.

Yesterday at school had been unusually challenging. A girl Leslie knew had been telling her about one of her latest excursions with her boy when something clicked.

"When are we gonna get you a man, Leslie? How great would that be?" the girl's eyes radiated excitement.

"Oh, I dunno, Lisa. When the time's right, I guess…" she responded nervously. Her stress came from the stupidest sources.

But the truth was, she hadn't taken interest in anybody at school, for some reason. Nobody appeared to stick out of the crowd to her. But everything happened for a reason, and someday she would get her chance.

Boys were rarely after her anyways, and it was better that way. Maybe some did like her, but she never knew. And it didn't matter at all because a relationship had to be a mutual thing.

Deep down in that hopeful, little heart of hers, she just wanted to change everything up. Give all her money to those East Side boys, because they deserved it more than she did. They worked hard and long for their cash, where she'd just be handed some for that pathetic list of chores she was given. What use was money if one day it'd be all gone? She, like other girls, could frivolously spend it on make-up or that sweater that was in style, while many used theirs to keep their family together. And of course there were those that stole and robbed, confined in jail, when possibly they were just desperate for that money. Possibly a good reason too.

If she could, she'd hand all those bills and change to the next greaser boy she would see. Not as charity, really. More like doing what's right. But she knew this wasn't going to happen. Just those stupid hopes of a better life that wasn't real.

But whatever it was she felt tugging at her heart, it gave her a sense of ecstasy. It was a feeling that she was being prepared for something greater than she could imagine, but the unknown was making her impatient. Hopefully, if this time came, she wouldn't screw it up by being too shy.

It wasn't as if anybody would really understand if she told them. So the best thing was to put on that front and keep on living.

**Monday**

Between classes, Leslie hustled along, trying to avoid any more shallow conversations girls may want to start up with her. Although, the discussion some particular girls were having stopped her in her dash to class. She honestly wasn't sure why she had involuntarily halted, but she couldn't move.

"Yeah, he said it was probably Dallas Winston."

Leslie blended in with the group that was gossiping. "What happened, Lisa?"

Lisa immediately made eye contact with Leslie. "Oh, hi! Well, my boyfriend-"

Here we go again, Leslie thought, agitated.

"-said that Mr. Parker went to stock the shelves in his store, when he noticed a lot of the stuff was gone!"

"Hm, who did it?"

"Well, he told me it was probably Dallas Winston. You know, the greaser?" Lisa scoffed in disgust.

"Was it him for sure?" Leslie asked. She was on to something.

"Well, nobody knows for sure, but chances are, it's him."

Leslie swallowed the anger, letting it burn her throat. She nodded apathetically and made her way to her classroom. As she sat down, she dropped her book on the desk, causing a loud _thump_ to echo throughout the room. The few people in their seats turned to look at her. Her face got warm and she cursed in her head for being so clumsy.

Leslie couldn't concentrate throughout the entire math lesson, which was disadvantageous because she wasn't very good at math. But she couldn't get the tone of Lisa's voice out of her mind. That scoff, as if those greasers weren't worth more than trash. As if they weren't people, too.

She was also curious about that Dallas Winston. She'd recognized the name, but never had a face to match it up with. They made him out to be a real piece of work, a scandalous rebel with no cause. Did they really know? It was easy for her to be apprehensive; she was a prime example of someone who was stereotyped. The greasers must've thought she had it all and would spit on them if given the chance because they didn't see that shy, awkward girl inside who was just looking for something real. And the Socs knew that quiet girl, but they couldn't see that defiant, adventurous heart that was hidden beneath all the plastic.

Beneath the "yes, ma'ams," the good grades, and pretty clothes was a bleeding heart that was screaming for something new. It _was _possible to have too much of a good thing; she knew firsthand. She was tired of rehearsing for life; it was time for some improvising. And to begin, she was determined to find out what this Dallas looked like. Even if they never shared a word, at least she could picture him in her mind.

But to look for a particular person, one has to know something about them to pick them out from the crowd. After class, Leslie ran up to Lisa, who was a couple feet ahead of her.

"Lisa, what does Dallas look like?" she said, a little out of breath.

"Well, I've never seen him, but I bet I know what he looks like," she sounded obnoxiously confident, "I think dark brown hair and eyes, and pretty tall. I'm gonna go with that. Why?"

"Oh, just curious, is all," Leslie responded nervously. Hopefully she could still take a guess at who he was based on that useless information.

She exited the front door of the school, along with the rest of the mob, and stepped out into the golden sunlight. The warm breeze blew through her hair and she clung to her books. She saw a Soc shove into a greaser a little younger than her as his buddies laughed. The kid regained his composure and continued down the sidewalk.

Leslie, going in the opposite direction, briskly passed him. As she did, she diffidently smiled.


	2. Chapter 2

Next chapter! These two are meeting in August, a little before the book begins. The rest of the chapters are gonna be in first person POV.

**Many the Miles**

"_This was the very first page, not where the storyline ends_

_My thoughts will echo your name until I see you again_

_These are the words I held back as I was leaving too soon_

_I was enchanted to meet you"_

_**~Taylor Swift (Enchanted)**_

Halfway home from school, the clouds rolled in and it began pouring. Each raindrop clung to me, and by the time I got home, I was soaked. I should've gotten a ride from someone, but I just didn't think it through.

As soon as I set my books down on the table, I spotted a note from my mom. It was a short list of some things she needed me to pick up from the drugstore. As much as I hated running errands, it gave me something productive to do.

I grabbed the money on the table and an umbrella. The door slammed heavily behind me and I stopped for a moment, just to take in the view.

The house was larger than I remembered, with ivy crawling up the sides. Nothing seemed to be in disarray, besides a few leaves twisting in the grass. The bushes and trees looked sturdy and perfectly trimmed, each one even with the other. For a visitor, it'd give the impression that once entering, you needed to take off your shoes, put on a pleasant smile, and begin a tasteful conversation on Tulsa's lovely weather. _Too_ perfect.

The drugstore wasn't too far a walk; it was right in the center of town, which meant you saw all walks of life. There could easily have been ten Socs inside in addition to a mass of fifteen greasers. I thought it was nice to have that variety when it was peaceful, which wasn't very often. Usually, there were some cuss words tossed around, until Mr. Parker got wise to them all and told them to take it outside. At least that's what the girls said. Their boys took them there sometimes because you could get Cokes and relax. It wasn't anything classy, but I didn't mind.

As I gingerly opened the door, the bell that was hanging from it rung softly. A couple heads turned in my direction and I quickly shuffled by, trying not to draw anyone's attention. I've never liked the spotlight when in public, which is ironic because I've been taking ballet lessons since I was a kid. But I'm not graceful, pretty clumsy actually. The other girls in my class are gentle and elegant, while I can't even tell the different positions apart. It's a pitiful sight.

Yet my mother uses it as an incentive to brag to her friends. She's extremely old-fashioned like that. A lady ought to be a lady, and a man ought to be a man. She uses "wisdoms" like that to shape me into becoming an ideal lady.

There were a couple Socs there, as well as a few greasers. I decided to carry on with my business, regardless of worrying if a fight was gonna start. As I ambled down the aisles, I filled my basket with some over-the-counter medicines and toiletries that were on the list.

The bell faintly rang again and I heard Mr. Parker enthusiastically greet the customer. Instinctively, I shot my head around to see who it was. Before I knew it, I had bumped into someone. My heart skipped a beat from shock. A loud crash resounded as my basket and all the items scattered all over the floor. Stares from the others were burning into my back and my cheeks flushed madly.

I averted my gaze to the person I just collided with. "I'm sorry!"

He was already bending down, clutching the basket and some items. "You're good," he muttered.

I kneeled and grabbed the pack of cigarettes he must have been carrying. We exchanged our objects and he replaced the cigarettes in his jacket, looking as cool and collected as if the incident had never happened.

"Ain't much of an introduction, huh?" he asked. I could tell by the tone of his voice that he was expecting me to be offended because he wasn't sophisticated. Or he was just waiting for me to treat him like dirt. Either way, I wasn't upset because I ain't real sophisticated myself.

"That's okay," I answered sweetly.

"Name's Dallas Winston. How 'bout you, doll?"

I was speechless; boys never flirted with me. Let alone Dallas Winston. Who, should I add, didn't look like the Dallas Winston I pictured. He didn't have dark locks. They were light, an unusual shade of white-blond. And his eyes were a very light blue. Besides the fact that he was pretty tall, Lisa was beyond wrong.

I didn't know if I should've answered him or come back with a snippy comment. Anyone else probably would have been snide, but I just couldn't bring myself to be. Why would I hide behind a mask of judgment, when all I wanted was to know more about him? Besides, I'm incapable of thinking up smart remarks on the spot.

"Leslie Tella," I smiled. I probably looked like a moron. My hair was soaking wet, my hands were getting clammy, and my worries kept interrupting what I wanted to say. I wanted to ask him so many things. Is this true? What about that? Are you more than they say? I needed to prove them wrong somehow. But of course I couldn't ask any of _that_.

"Huh. I ain't seen ya before. But I betcha recognize me, hm?" He cocked an eyebrow. Deep down, something kept eating at me. It said, _Don't fall for his tricks. He's not like you. What if somebody saw this? _To my surprise, I was honored to even be talking to him. There was more to that smirk, more to the reckless twinkle in his eyes. But there had to be some explanation for the fact that we were both here, right now. Everything happens for a reason and I wasn't about to screw it up, like I do with everything else.

"Actually, I've never seen you before now," I replied honestly. I looked around anxiously, out of habit.

"Well, whaddya say we get to know each other better over a Coke?" he winked, tilting his head over at the counter.

I ignored the conflicting emotions running through my mind. "I'd like that."

I followed him over to the counter at the front of the store. His gait gave off a sense of superiority and pride that must've been attained through years of struggle. Dallas leaned against the counter and put in our order. I hopped up on the spinning stool next to him.

_God, please don't let me do something stupid._

The waitress brought the Cokes over fairly quickly. I took a sip from the bubbly cup and swallowed hard. Coke had never been my favorite soda, but when Dallas Winston is buying, who could complain?

There was this tingly feeling in the pit of my stomach that wouldn't leave. It might have to do with the fact that he was awful striking. His features were sharp and real noticeable. You could easily pick him out of a crowd. I had never been good at picking people out of the crowd that were different.

Elvis's new song was playing on the radio and I was quietly humming along to the catchy tune. Dallas knocked me out of my musical trance and I almost spit out my drink.

"Like this song?" he laughed. Humiliated, I nodded and looked at my shoes.

He pushed his hair out of his eyes. "Don't like the Beatles, huh, cutie?"

I couldn't stop the grin from forming on my lips. I had never gotten so much attention. His smile was fascinating. It scared me, yet I wanted to know more and more about him.

"I-I don't," I responded, awkwardly slipping up on my words. He rested his head on his hand and kept that same devilish smirk. "Tell me, babe, how many guys are lined up waitin' for ya?"

I scoffed a little bit. "None."

He looked at me incredulously. "Really?"

I looked at him and, playing along, said, "Yes, Dallas, _really_."

I thought I was pretty, but not drool-worthy gorgeous. I mean, there's nothing exceptionally unusual about long, blonde hair, blue eyes, and pale skin. He looked as if he was trying to convince me there was.

"Call me Dally, doll." he responded.

I laughed to myself. "You're really smooth, Dally," I admitted sheepishly.

Any Soc girl would have thought him tasteless and, to be honest, a pig. I wasn't desperate or anything, but something about him made me _really_ smile. I'd forgotten how to do that. I was used to putting on a fake grin, trying to cover up the fact that my life was a mess and I couldn't do a thing about it.

"That's awfully rude," I commented. I knew those girls first hand. They were the ones, like Lisa, who needed a boy with the same critical values as her. Or ones like Sherri Valance, who had somebody as equally popular and attractive as her. Dally would never suit them because he didn't care what others thought. I realized something just then: it was just as strange for people to see Dally hitting on me as it was for them to see me showing kindness to a greaser. This social war wasn't just one-sided.

I wasn't completely stupid; I knew I couldn't fix this conflict or change the world. That was impossible for just one person to do, let alone awkward, little me. I also knew Dally and I couldn't ever have a true relationship, anyway. I hated this fighting as much as the next guy, but it seemed to me that it had been going on for as long as I could remember. I didn't think I'd be risky enough to do it anyway. How could I ever muster up the courage to be brave, to do something reckless, even if I thought it was worth it? Nobody would expect that out of me.

Dally had grown quiet and was sucking on his straw. I hesitantly tapped his shoulder. He glanced in my direction.

"I have to go, Dally. Thank you for the Coke," I added timidly.

He laughed at my formality. "Anytime, doll. You sure you gotta go?"

I sighed. "Yeah. I guess I'll see you 'round town." _Wishful thinking_.

"You better believe it," he settled with a grin. I slid off the stool and made my way to the door.

Before leaving, I gave Dally one last smile. I might've phoned home that I'd be late and just stayed there with him if I'd known just how long it would take for me to see him "'round town."


	3. Chapter 3

**Important**: This story has now fast-forwarded to June of 1967, almost a year after the events in the book took place. Johnny is dead, but Dally is not. He was in jail in the beginning of 1967 and is now eighteen.

Enjoy and please drop me a review!

**Many the Miles**

"_Are you sick of everyone around?_

_With their big fake smiles and stupid lies_

_While deep inside you're bleeding_

_No, you don't what it's like_

_When nothing feels alright_

_You don't what its like to be like me_

_To be hurt_

_To feel lost"_

_**~Simple Plan (Welcome To My Life)**_

Ten months passed as quick as a speeding bullet. Nothing had changed much in my life. I was thankful that school had ended yesterday, and miraculously, I passed math.

Nobody seemed to be completely over the death of Bob Sheldon, Sherri's boyfriend. It sent quite a shock wave through the West Side. My family had never known the Sheldons personally, but it was still alarming. One day, you see somebody at school goofing off with their friends, and the next, they've completely disappeared. I had seen the article in the paper that day. I recognized the two boys involved in the murder from school: Ponyboy Curtis and Johnny Cade. I would've never guessed those two would be involved in a crime like that. The article interviewed Sherri and Randy Adderson, who testified that it was self-defense against Bob and, after looking at the two boys' naive eyes, I trusted every word of it.

Almost a week after the murder, the boys had saved a bunch of kids from a church in Windrixville that had gone up in flames. Their story was awful heroic. And, to my surprise, Dallas was involved in all of it. He must've been pretty close to these boys; he had saved Johnny from the burning church after all.

I became addicted to the story, reading all the articles that were regularly posted, praising the greasers' bravery. But then, the last article was published. It turns out that none of the charges against Johnny really mattered anymore because he had died from third-degree burns. Now, why did a _hero_ deserve any of this?

But, in all honesty, I was stunned something awful when I read Dally's name in the paper that first time. Based on all the rumors I've heard, I wouldn't have expected that he'd be wrapped up in something that glorified the greasers. It just shows that even the misunderstood can judge somebody wrongly.

After picturing that wild and free tint to his eyes, I knew it was something he was capable of, though. Beneath the strong front, there was a living and breathing person who had more emotions than anybody credited him with. And the only reason I could assume this was because I knew the feeling more than anyone would care to know, which is why I would never breathe a word about it.

I was never good with expressing my feelings unless I was pushed to my breaking point. It seemed easier to me to just put up a front and not let anybody in on what I really thought of the social wars or the way I was supposed to act as a girl. It must've had something to do with growing up on the West Side. The only feeling that was clearly expressed was anger, directed mostly towards the greasers. You couldn't rely on anybody to have your back or to feel the same way as you do. Everything was guessing and if you made one fatal move, there goes your reputation. That's why it was better to just put away your emotions.

I had been walking past the drugstore everyday for a week now. Besides it being good exercise, it brought back a lot of nostalgia, too. Ever since the article, Dally had begun coming to my mind often. When I walked by the store, I often wondered what would've happened if I stayed longer that night. Maybe nothing good would've come from it, but then again, it could've turned into the best day of my life. It amazes me how life works sometimes.

I left the house at three o'clock in the afternoon and started out for my daily stroll. There were enough people out on the sidewalks that I had to cram through to keep going in the direction of the store. It wasn't much of an atmosphere for thinking, so I kept my head bent, trying to ignore the low roar of the crowds. There was a girl giggling as the boy she was with taunted her. To my surprise, the sight of their happiness made me smile. It was a kind of simple bliss that I longed for. I averted my gaze to get rid of the jealousy.

After passing four different alleyways and carefully examining some weeds growing in between the sidewalk cracks, I had made it to my destination. The windows were foggy from handprints, making it difficult to recognize any faces through the thin sheet of glass. It also probably had something to do with the fact that my vision isn't too good. I opened the door, cringing in expectation for the bell to ring. To my relief, it didn't seem as loud as usual and, not seeing anybody inside, I went over to sit at the counter, setting my bag on the stool next to me. A waitress slowly sauntered over to me, chewing her gum loudly. "What can I getcha, hon?"

I thought for a moment and blurted out, "A Coke, please."

She strolled off and I pulled my yearbook out of my bag. I had brought it just in case I came and nobody I recognized had been here. I flipped to the very back of the book, where most everyone I ran into on the last day of school signed. None of the notes were worth a penny. Lisa's read, "I'll hook you up this summer!" and another girl I barely knew wrote, "Call me soon!" One guy put something stupid like, "Hope to see you in math next year!" when I couldn't even recall us sharing a word the entire year. I almost knocked over the Coke that had magically appeared after reading that one. The lies and shallowness behind each "good-natured" comment was horribly obvious to me. Lisa's must have been the only one that had some truth in it because I knew she wanted to hook me up more than anything.

Anger flared up in me and I put the yearbook away before it led to anything more. Sipping my Coke quietly, I watched the waitress talk on the telephone as she was wiping down the counter with a rag. She laughed loudly and her curly, brown hair bounced on her shoulders. I almost jumped out of my seat when the bell rang again.

Turning my head quickly, I almost keeled over from shock. Dally was standing in the doorway, looking around with a lost expression on his face. He glanced in my direction and we locked eyes. I smiled, still not believing my eyes. Was this really happening? He smirked, widening his eyes in surprise, and made his way over to me. Yes, yes it was.

"Hi, Dally." I couldn't think of anything more intelligent to say.

His eyes were as blue as I last remembered, but they seemed to have mellowed. But they weren't placid; more like vulnerable. As if all the life and confidence had been sucked from him.

"Hey, Leslie." I was stunned he remembered my name. I mean, you couldn't completely forget someone like him. But a wallflower like me could be easily overlooked.

He saw the Coke I was drinking and lightly chuckled. "Guess that's why you're here?"

"Yeah. I've been walking down here lately…'cause school's out now." I added the last bit quickly. I didn't want him to think I was down here because I had some kind of obsession with him or something. And I didn't think he'd understand if I told him it was just a good place to think.

"June already? Man, I've lost track of time…" he trailed off absentmindedly. _What month did he think it was? _I wondered.

Well, that left me desperate for anything to say. "How?" I asked curiously.

He squinted at me, clearly irritated. "Done some time. Ya wouldn't understand anyway. You've got it easy as easy can be."

Easy? He thought I had it easy? My life was a train wreck. But I couldn't blame him for thinking it wasn't. A family, money, and a good rep with the authorities screamed perfection to anyone else. But the underlying emotions were what counted. Being misunderstood by everyone and loning it because nobody would listen even if you told them takes its toll on a person. And even he didn't understand _that_.

"I don't have it easy, Dally." I braced myself for what would happen next.

He shot his head around, undoubtedly caught off guard. "Yeah, right," he mumbled sarcastically.

A sudden wave of frustration crashed over me. I needed to make him understand. "I'm not lying. I don't," I responded brazenly.

He didn't say anything, but I knew it was beyond his comprehension at this point. I sighed in resignation, deciding to drop the subject. "Dally, d'you wanna talk tomorrow?"

He bit his lip. "'Kay."

I wasn't really sure of where I was taking this, but I wanted to talk to him again. I wasn't one to irrationally make bold decisions, but I knew Dally didn't seem to be in any state to, so it was really up to me. I sucked it up and started thinking of a convenient location for both of us, still unaware of where he lived. The safest bet was to just pick somewhere that was an equal distance from the West and East Side since I didn't know the details. The drugstore always worked, but it often got crowded with lots of chatty couples or groups. The park near the school was a pretty private option.

"We could meet at the park, the one near the school, tomorrow." I suggested nervously.

"Noon," he added. "So, it's a date?"

Like, a real date? I'd never been on a real date. I wasn't expecting that at all. I wouldn't have a clue about how to act on a date. Hopefully, he didn't mean it that way.

"Yeah. I'll see ya tomorrow. Bye, Dally." I smiled anxiously and packed up my belongings.

After leaving, I realized I hadn't paid the waitress for my Coke. Rushing back to the door, I saw that she appeared to be having a fit over it.

Before I could even open the door and apologize, Dally handed her the change.


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you for all the reviews, guys! I appreciate any you can give xD Next chapter is when things will get good. Okay, enjoy!

**Be prepared: the song is pretty terrible, but the lyrics are okay…you may not wanna listen to it.**

**Many the Miles**

"_I feel a change in my soul today_

_Questioning things I believed in so firmly yesterday_

_How can I have faith in myself and what I feel to be true_

_When the next day I feel my heart and mind telling me something new…_

_Right now, I'm confused_

_Right now, I don't exactly know what to choose_

_This day feels so unlike the rest_

_Right now, I'm confused"_

_**~Natalie Brown (Confused)**_

My alarm clock went off at ten o'clock, filling my subconscious mind with incessant ringing. I sat up slowly, pushing the jumbled mass of covers and sheets off me. I had a really weird dream, but I guess it wasn't too important because I couldn't remember it for the life of me.

I made my way down the stairs, gripping the handrail for fear that I'd keep tripping. The smell of pancakes was drifting through the air and my mom smiled pleasantly when she noticed I was finally up. "Morning, honey!"

"Mornin', Mom," I mumbled sleepily and, shuffling my slippers across the kitchen floor, made my way over to the table. Mom brought the stack of blueberry pancakes to the table and some syrup. It was only us in the mornings because I didn't have any siblings and Dad went to work early. He owned a business that made weapons, which were being used in Vietnam. Although he brought home a lot of money, it always hit a sore spot when people asked about his work. I didn't know a whole lot of stuff about the war, but I didn't like the idea at all; especially that boys my age were getting drafted. He didn't how I felt, though.

By the time I was on my second pancake, Mom had joined me at the table. She stared out the window blankly. The sky was a deep blue with wispy clouds that resembled cotton candy. She suddenly beamed. "Lisa called. She wants to go shopping with you on Friday."

My mother loved when Lisa and I got together. She figured Lisa had a good head on her shoulders and would help me to channel more of my inner lady. Plus, it was becoming clear to me that my mom was, like Lisa, coaxing me to become more aware of the boys around me.

"Okay. I'll get back to her," I mumbled, reluctantly. Shopping was fun, but I knew there was more behind this little outing than just spending a day trying on clothes with a friend. I had to be wary of her.

Spooning some fruit onto her plate, Mom turned her attention back to me. "So, it's your second day of summer break. Any plans?"

Wishing I could avoid this conversation, I twirled my fork for a moment. "I'm gonna take a walk to the park, probably." Not probably; it was definite.

"Just be wary of the people there."

Me and my mom usually got along, but it was only because I held back most of what I wanted to say. She really drove me crazy. If I told her everything I really thought, we'd always be at war. It was kind of sick how fake our relationship was. And the really pathetic thing was that she didn't know it.

"What people?" I asked, playing stupid. I knew what she meant. She was aware of the different social classes and that they didn't get along, but not to the full extent. It wasn't uncommon though. Most adults didn't know how bad things really were between us, like the jumping or the rumbles.

She sighed. "Leslie, you know. The bad boys and all. People like _that_ use those poor girls who fall for them. It happened when I was your age, too."

She meant 'greasers', of course. It's not like it was surprising that it happened in her generation either; it's something that's always happened. But she'll never understand that not everyone with hair grease or a leather jacket is our enemy. It seemed to me that most of my enemies are _my_ kind. We may be of the same social status, but I would always be at war against _them_.

"I know," I sulked.

She immediately stopped eating and looked at me, her eyes radiating concern. "What's wrong?"

Clutching my plate, I stood up. A fake smile was plastered to my face. "Oh, nothing!" I responded enthusiastically. It must've been convincing because her face softened and her eyes looked serene once again.

Making my way upstairs, I brooded. Deep down, I knew holding all this inside wasn't good for me and it would resurface one day. But I assumed that day was far into the future…

I took a quick shower and decided not to apply any makeup. I usually put on a little, but it was rarely a priority in the summer. I thought most makeup was unattractive anyway.

"So, it's a date?" His voice still echoed in my mind. Did that mean I should dress up or keep it casual? Not that I had the option to look too informal in any case. I realized I was probably stressing out for no reason at all. Dally was a flirty kind of guy, but his voice was grave when he asked that. But maybe he just forgot how to be enticing. How, I couldn't tell you.

It still took me forever to get ready because I continued to have trouble persuading myself it was just going to be a laid-back meeting. When it was getting close to 11:50, I made my bed in a frenzy, leaving the silky covers creased and drooping off one side of the bed.

Anticipation began to come over me about halfway to the park. I was thankful for the loose dress I was wearing because of the intensely hot weather. Even the usually radiant flowers that were planted all around me were wilting by the minute.

I spent the last couple blocks sprinting. According to the clock in the window of a store, it was about noon and I didn't want to be late. I didn't know if Dally was usually a prompt person or not, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

When I arrived at the park, there were only a couple parents there with their toddlers. Avoiding the kids, I reserved the bench under the lamppost for Dally and I. He wasn't anywhere within my line of vision, and the anticipation was killing me. But I tried to appear patient.

I was probably sitting on that bench for at least an hour. I didn't want to believe he decided not to show up. I kept thinking maybe he was held up somewhere or some kind of emergency came up. But he probably just didn't want to see me again.

I regretted getting him upset yesterday, even though it wasn't intentional. He must think we just can't relate at all. I came from riches and ease, while he came from pain and lost dreams. But the only reason I stepped out of my comfort zone to set this all up was because something about him told me he knew what it was like to not belong…

Eventually, I made myself leave. There was no point in waiting. It was amazing that I made it this far, past the extraordinary moment. I never thought I'd get to have that once-in-a-lifetime chance to meet a guy like Dally, let alone almost have a real conversation with him. Why were all the good things that were starting to happen suddenly slipping through the cracks? I'm farther than imaginable from perfect, but I still deserved a little happiness. What made every other broken, twisted person worthy of wearing an authentic smile? Maybe I was just too gullible or eager. The thought of my mom being right about guys like that using girls was troubling me.

But I came to a realization: Dallas was different; if he was going to use me, you'd think he would've tried harder. I could see it in him – _somewhere_ – that he was different.


	5. Chapter 5

Eeep! I'm almost at twenty reviews! Thank you so much guys! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

**Many the Miles**

"_I'm holding my breath_

_Won't lose you again_

_Something's made your eyes go cold_

_Come on, come on, don't leave me like this_

_I thought I had you figured out_

_Something's gone terribly wrong_

_You're all I wanted"_

_**~Taylor Swift (Haunted)**_

Chewing on the end of my pencil, I scribbled a note down in my journal:

_Thursday, June 8_

_Going back at noon. Hoping for more luck than on Tuesday and Wednesday._

Ever since my disappointing trip to the park, I had been having the urge to go back everyday at noon. Granted, that was only Tuesday, two days ago. Some may believe the feeling was a sign or calling, but, as fascinating as that seemed to me, it was obviously pure hope.

Nobody would realize why I even longed for this. I could get my hands on all the diamonds and pearls and other fantasies of the materialistic world, but why would I trade them all in for a day spent with Dallas Winston? It was because of the name. His name carried an infamous array of assumptions that most people couldn't see past. They were too busy looking down on others to see what treasures lay right in front of them. I couldn't imagine all the amazing things they were missing out on.

Since when did a name make us who we were anyway? "Leslie" sounds blissful and free-spirited. Pleasure had never been a friend of mine, and how could I feel liberated if I was trapped in a box of expectations and unfeasible dreams? If my name described the opposite of me, then the same could be possible for Dally's. That was the only evidence I had that he was something extraordinary.

Flipping absentmindedly through the journal, I stopped. One seemed to stick out at me.

_Monday, August 27_

_Today I met Dallas Winston at the drugstore; I ran into him carrying my basket. Golly, I'm clumsy. But he bought me a Coke anyway! _

_I've never seen anyone with such light hair. I wonder if it's natural … But I'm sure it is; no guy like Dally would bleach his hair. He's got quite the personality. Nobody should be that confident; although, it is kind of charming. I wonder if people get mad at him for that. The way he thinks he's tough enough to take on anyone or do anything he sets his mind to. I'd like to have that …_

After that, I came across all of the newspaper clippings on the Windrixville incident that I decided to keep in my journal. I guess I'd wanted them so that I could reflect on everything that happened years later. Or maybe it was just satisfying to have proof that reputation _doesn't _mean anything

...

A half hour later, I stepped onto the sodden grass, ignoring wisps of hair that were blowing into my face, so I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. He was standing there, nonchalantly smoking a cigarette. That didn't surprise me; he smelled like tobacco when we first met. What stunned me was that he decided to show up, looking around as if I was the one who was late.

"What're you doin' here?" I managed, still bewildered.

Dally blew a puff of smoke in my general direction. "I was 'sposed to meet you here." He looked at me as if I was off my rocker.

"Yeah, two days ago. It's Thursday."

His eyes widened in disbelief as he muttered a curse. "You gotta be kiddin' me. There ain't no way it's Thursday."

It was so convincing that I began questioning the days of the week myself. But I knew for a fact that Dally hadn't intentionally stood me up. And _that _was what I found most concerning.

After shaking any thoughts in my head that suggested it was Tuesday, I met his gaze. "It's Thursday, for sure."

"Shoot, I'm _really_out of it then!" He laughed darkly, as if it was more of a sick joke than a real issue. I gave a bleak smile. It was no use making a big deal out of it.

The journal entry from August popped into my mind and I tried to picture the arrogant, invincible boy I had first met. He seemed to be a dream, a far-off memory, and the guy in front of me who couldn't even keep the days of the week straight was a startling reminder of reality. And reality is, maybe ten months is enough time for a person to completely transform into someone you never remembered. I had a feeling, kind of like a premonition, that Windrixville played a lead role in all of this ...

Before I even knew what I was doing (and I would've stopped myself), I blurted out what had been tucked in the back of my mind for awhile now. "What happened in Windrixville anyway?"

Dally shot around to look at me, anger flaring up in his eyes like fire. His stare was burning a hole right through me and a lump formed in my throat. I thought I was gonna be sick.

"What?" he challenged, as if he wanted to make sure he heard me correctly, even though he evidently did. I didn't want to repeat myself. As much as I hate to admit it, I was terrified beyond belief.

"I-I said …" My mouth twitched as I tried to ask the question again, but nothing was coming out. So I stood there, looking stupid, while he vehemently ground his cigarette into the grass.

"Windrixville, huh? You ought to know; you're one of 'em! Your kind's the reason-" he took a shaky breath "-the kid's dead. Maybe if y'all stayed on yer own turf and minded yer own business, none of this woulda happened!" I stiffened as he slammed his fist down on the bench, cussing out everything under the sun.

I heard his voice in my mind whisper, "_Your _kind is the reason I'm broken." He thought that I was planning his demise, along with the rest of them. He truly believed in his innermost core that I was out to get him and preyed upon his misery. And the fact that I couldn't change that broke my heart.

Tears were forming in the back of my eyes, but I would never let them fall. That would be too humiliating. I was already labeled a traitor and a fraud.

"I-I'm sorry," I choked out. Before I could say another word, I beat it out of there. And it didn't matter who saw. I didn't dare look back.

How could he believe I wanted to hurt him? I was just like him. Misunderstood, angry ... But then again, maybe we weren't so similar. I had seen something in his eyes just then. Something fierce and untamed. Almost like a malignant dog that was just unleashed. It seemed that he was searching for something to hate. Or was it_ someone to blame_?

But if we were alike, then this outburst from Dally would suggest that I would have a paroxysm of my own eventually. I was a ticking time bomb, just waiting, negligent to the fact that one simple thing could spark my fuse. And nobody would tiptoe around me because they thought I was too submissive to ever lose my cool. One day they would see...

But I would have to go like usual and just tuck the memory of Dally into the back of my mind, pretending as if it never happened. I had to face the facts. It was all just too good to be true.


	6. Chapter 6

All right, shopping with Lisa! Yeah, I'm not excited either. Anyway, happy reading!

**Many the Miles**

"_When their whispers have painted pictures that_

_Make you doubt what you once believed in_

…

_Who do you believe when you can't get through_

_When everything you know seems so untrue_

_When I'm lost in a place that I thought I knew_

_Give me some way that I might find you"_

_**~Needtobreathe (Through Smoke)**_

As the clock struck two, a pale yellow Corvair swiftly pulled up my driveway. I was thankful that I was ready on time; Lisa was very prompt, especially for an outing that involved shopping. If my mom hadn't brought it up at the table this morning, I would've never remembered that I had somewhere to be.

Lisa beamed when I finally got myself together, slamming the car door shut. She carefully set her sunglasses on the top of her head. Her chestnut-brown hair was curled into silky ringlets and her eyebrows were freshly plucked. Lisa was one of those girls who embraced her femininity to the maximum. Those were the girls that wore every kind of make-up known to woman and never seemed to break out or get sweaty. I didn't understand how they could put so much time into their exterior, but allow their interior to be so ugly.

Turning the key in the ignition, Lisa giggled. "We're gonna have a blast, aren't we?"

_One of us is_, I thought irritably. "We sure are," I replied, with as much rigor as I could muster.

Within minutes, Lisa parked over by the curb that was in front of a couple little boutiques. Before she got out, she pulled down her mirror, reapplied her lipstick, and daintily placed her rose-colored glasses on her nose. I rolled my eyes and got out of the car, hoping that would get the ball rolling. I wanted this day to be over with as soon as possible. She grabbed her purse and tottered after me in too-high heels calling, "Hey, wait up!"

The boutique was cute with its peach-colored walls and flower designs. Everything looked orderly and groups of girls around my age were everywhere, holding dresses up to their figures or trying on high heels. I even saw a couple boys in there with their girlfriends and I cringed out of sympathy. I couldn't imagine how they felt when even _I_ didn't want to be there.

Lisa tilted her head in the direction of one of the boys. "Les, look. He's cute, huh?" she whispered persuasively.

She was either trying to get me interested in somebody's boyfriend or she was checking him out for herself. Either way, I was appalled. "Aren't you already goin' out with someone?"

She scoffed. "You mean Patrick? Absolutely not. We broke up on Tuesday."

"How come?" It wasn't a surprise. Lisa had dated a couple different guys, but she never really looked into personalities. They'd buy her a couple roses and she'd be smitten, until she found out what their flaws were. It was as if she was looking for someone with only good traits. It never seemed to cross her mind that her standards were unrealistic.

She was browsing through a rack of skirts, mumbling, "He complained about everything. It was drivin' me crazy, so I broke it off. I guess he's gonna have to find some other girl to go to prom with."

We hadn't even entered our senior year and she had a prom date. I bet she bought the dress already, too. A light bulb seemed to go off in her head. "Hey, Les, if you could go to prom with anyone, who would it be?"

I paused, startled by the question because I didn't have an answer. There was nobody at our school I was really attracted to, let alone desperate enough to spend my only prom with. "I dunno. There's not really anyone I'd wanna go to prom with."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, come on. There has to be someone out there that you'd love to take you to prom!"

I wondered if it would be wrong to just not go to prom. It was wishful thinking to assume that I would have a special prom date. I may get asked, but the chance of the guy having the qualities I looked for was second to none. I took a deep breath. I couldn't worry about what I couldn't change.

All Lisa's talk brought Dally to the forefront of my mind. It was horrible knowing that he was walking around town feeling such hatred towards me. Or maybe he had completely forgotten I existed, unaware that I still cared a lot about him. Either way, in his mind, I was still a fake like Lisa, prancing around a boutique and buying everything I could ever want. I had quite a bit of money in my bag, but I knew if I took my wallet out, I would feel sick. That money needed to be in the hands of someone who needed it, not in the possession of a girl who already had plenty of options in her wardrobe. I wanted to toss it onto the pavement. Out of sight, out of mind.

"There's nobody. Nobody," I repeated, getting impatient. Lisa raised her eyebrows in concern. She shook the look of worry of her face and patted my arm.

"Well, we'll make sure you find someone perfect, hon."

Several blouses and a couple hundred pairs of shoes later, Lisa finally narrowed down her choices and went up to the register. She looked to see that I had nothing in my hands. "Leslie, ain't you gonna buy anythin'?"

"No, I didn't see anythin' I really liked." Truth was, the store was full of really cute clothes, but I was a bit scared. I was fearful of the monster that I would become. If I looked around and began trying everything in my sight on, I would spend all of my cash on a bunch of junk I didn't need. If this was the same me from a year and a half ago, there would've been no problem with that. But if that happened now, I would feel mighty guilty. Guilty that I go around thinking my financial situation is screwed up, when I would be doing nothing in my life to stand up against the injustice. I'd be another hypocrite, like the rest of them, and I wasn't about to let that happen.

Lisa just shrugged. She turned back to the cashier and began having some kind of meaningless conversation. It was a mystery to me why Lisa involved herself with such petty things. She was a real intelligent girl, getting A's in all her classes. But maybe she could only comprehend plain facts and couldn't look farther into things. I couldn't imagine that. Being trapped inside a bubble of proofs and unable to use your judgment to form opinions for yourself because you can only believe what you see. Every greaser is a waste of life because they don't have money and that means they are only capable of causing turmoil. Every girl accepts her femininity because she wears skirts and that means she needs a man to complete her. That kind of mindset was beyond me, but it wasn't uncommon.

"Alright, let's head back to the car," Lisa said, her voice muffled from behind a stack of boxes. I helped her unload them into the trunk and we ambled down the sidewalk.

"Hey, Les," Lisa was looking ahead, as if she was contemplating something, "Y'know that cousin of yours? He's real cute, huh?"

She was referring to my cousin Daniel. I supposed he was good-looking, but he was my cousin. It wasn't on my priority list to be checking him out.

"I guess, but he's my cousin. It's weird to look at him like that!" I teasingly elbowed her.

She giggled. "Yeah, I know, but I think he seems like a real sweet guy. Me and him were partners in class one time." I didn't know they were ever in class together, but it wasn't really a far-fetched idea considering the fact that they were both really good students. I tried my best at school, but I wasn't good enough to be in all the genius classes or anything.

I knew Danny would like her because they were both close-minded. He was over- protective too and Lisa would like that. She had an impertinent side to her, but physically, she was weak. I liked to be around Danny for the most part, but I had to be cautious of his domineering ways.

"I think he'd like you, Lisa," I assured her.

She sighed. "I hope so. He seems better than the other guys."

I dropped the topic because a greaser was walking down the sidewalk in the direction opposite of us. A sense of dread came over me. The greaser wasn't making me uncomfortable; it was the nauseating anticipation of what was bound to come from Lisa. When he glanced in our direction, Lisa shot him a dirty look. I didn't know how he responded because I kept my head down, feeling like I wanted to crawl under a rock. It was no surprise Dally thought what he did about me. And as terrible as it was to be around it, I would never sink low enough to be a part of it.

Lisa sighed in frustration. "I really can't stand them," she said honestly. I had a feeling then that I never really had for Lisa. I pitied her. She was worse off then I thought. It was just a given that Socs hated greasers, but I've heard of a lot of girls that were just put-off by them, but were too busy with their own lives to really even care. But the confession in Lisa's voice proved to me that she couldn't overcome her loathing for them. She wasn't bluffing when she said she hated them. And the saddest thing was that her contempt was a waste of time because they didn't deserve it. But try telling that to her.

I sighed. I would've liked to go off on her, but I felt defeated. It would just be a waste of my time because she was too ignorant to understand. A thought suddenly popped into my head. "Hey, Lisa. You remember when you said at school that Mr. Parker's store got robbed?"

She furrowed her brow, searching her memory. "Yeah! Yeah, I remember that."

"Well, I just thought of it. So, was it Dally that did it?" I spoke quickly in anticipation, praying that she was wrong.

She grimaced. "Dally?"

I stood there, trying not to let my mouth gape open. I wasn't supposed to know who Dally was. It was okay to have heard of Dallas Winston, but not Dally. "I meant Dallas Winston …" I trailed off. She looked suspicious.

"Yeah, but how would you know if he's called Dally?" Her eyes widened. "Leslie, do you know Dallas Winston?"

A lie. Just a lie. "N-no. I've just heard people refer to him as Dally, is all."

She appeared to be relieved and laughed quietly. "I don't know what I was thinking. You knowing Dallas. That's ridiculous." A pang of guilt hit me. I lied about Dallas.

"But anyway," she continued, "I heard it was someone else. The grease that did it got locked away." I don't know why I was so pleased about that. I guess it was partly the childish feeling of "I'm right and you're wrong" that made it feel so good. But despite my sense of pride, I still wished that I could show her what was wrong with her accusations and have her actually care. Not that I had the slightest chance at that. In her barricaded mind, I could never be right because greasers weren't anything but scum. There's no difference between one anarchist rebel without a cause and another, no?

I dropped the subject with a resigning nod and we carried on our way. Lisa was all smiles and giggles for the rest of day, dismissing the whole conversation. I maintained an amiable front when she looked over, but my mind was somewhere far away from the hundreds of brick buildings we walked into.

By the end of the day Lisa had made three trips back to the car with armloads of boxes, and I had still purchased nothing. I promised her I'd had a nice time even though I didn't buy anything and that we could do it again another time. Then she drove me home.

Instead of going inside and having to sneak past my parents, I waved goodbye to Lisa and headed on a walk as soon as she was out of sight. I wasn't in the mood to put on a smile and submissively answer all their questions about my day. I needed to think.

The same voice that told me I wasn't like Dally was screaming things I couldn't make sense of. But one thing was clear: I lied about Dallas and I was a hypocrite.

If I really cared, I wouldn't be embarrassed to talk about him. I desperately thought, _I can't. Nobody would understand_. It occurred to me that I _did _deserve his anger because I was a fake and we had absolutely nothing in common. I should have just beat it out of that drugstore as soon as I saw him coming.

Making its way through the raging battleground of emotions and blame, a foreign idea came into perspective: If I had left the drugstore as soon as Dally sauntered over, I would have proven to be an even bigger hypocrite. I would have been leaving behind a broken life because of how he was socially defined.

If I had never met Dallas Winston none of this would have even occurred to me. But I did, and now he was gone. I had blown it; the chances of us meeting again were slim. The only thing left to do was move on.


End file.
